


Candy Kisses

by pipermca



Series: Prompts and Things [4]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Finger Sucking, Food Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prompt Fill, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-09 19:34:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16455983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pipermca/pseuds/pipermca
Summary: Hound was not “sexy.” Or rather, Hound wasn’t sexy in any way that mechs typically thought of when asked to describe the word. But Bluestreak didn’t care what other mechs thought. He thought Hound was endearing and attractive in his own way, and Bluestreak found that incredibly appealing.But Hound still wanted to show Bluestreak that he could be sexy... Even if he really wasn’t built for it.





	Candy Kisses

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prompt fill for the [**Hound/Bluestreak: candy kisses**](https://tfrarepairing.tumblr.com/post/179050592283/october-14-2018) prompt on Transformers Rare Pairing on Tumblr.

Hound was not “sexy.”

Or rather, Hound wasn’t sexy in any way that mechs typically thought of when asked to describe the word. Hound couldn’t throw a smouldering look like Sunstreaker, who could stare at someone with a delicious mix of danger and power. Hound didn’t have the domineering physique of Ironhide, who looked like he could pick up a mech with one hand and use his other to have his way with him. Hound couldn’t roll his hips when he walked like Mirage, who could draw optics to himself simply by walking by. Hound couldn’t pour himself sensuously into a chair like Jazz, who sometimes seemed to be made of a liquid instead of alloy and plating. And Hound didn’t have the aloof grace of Prowl, who could command with only a steely glare.

No, Hound wasn’t sexy in the classic way. He was boxy and square, with little in the way of rounded edges. He wasn’t tall, nor remarkably strong. He had a slightly odd gait when he walked, and he tended to collapse into chairs rather than sit down properly because of the way his frame was weighted. If he tried to glare, he ended up looking worried. And if he tried to mimic Sunstreaker’s smoulder, he looked more like he was contemplating the inner workings of his fuel processing systems.

Hound wasn’t thought of as “sexy” by most mechs. But Bluestreak didn’t care what other mechs thought. He thought Hound was endearing and attractive in his own way, and Bluestreak found that incredibly appealing.

Despite Bluestreak’s reassurances, though, Hound occasionally **tried** to act sexy for Bluestreak anyway. 

It didn’t always work well. There was the time Hound suggested a new interfacing position, and they ended up having to comm Hoist to come to Bluestreak’s quarters to untangle the Praxian’s door wings from Hound’s winch. Then there was the time Hound threw two rotors out of alignment and snapped a cable in his shoulder while attempting to do a pole dance for Bluestreak. And once, Hound wanted to surprise Bluestreak by waiting in his berth for him after his shift, panel open and waiting... Except Hound ended up falling into recharge before Bluestreak arrived. Hound looked so relaxed and comfortable, sprawled out across his berth, that Bluestreak had left him alone and recharged on the couch instead.

Bluestreak told Hound he didn’t have to do anything out of the ordinary to be wanted. “I love you for who you are. I **already** think you’re adorable. You don’t have to try to impress me,” Bluestreak had told Hound when he got out of med bay after the pole dancing incident. 

But Hound still wanted to show Bluestreak that he **could** be sexy... Even if he really wasn’t built for it.

After a particularly long and boring monitor shift, Bluestreak tapped his way into his quarters and was surprised to see Hound setting out an array of gel treats on a platter. “What’s this, pup?” he asked after greeting Hound, and he peered at the selection. “And where’d you get them? They look like Sideswipe’s.”

“They are,” Hound said with a nod. He put down the last treat and smiled up at Bluestreak. “But I got them for you.”

“What’s the occasion?” Bluestreak’s door wings tipped upwards in curiosity. “It’s not our anniversary.” Then he had a sudden stab of doubt. “Err, it’s **not** our anniversary, is it?” he asked with wide optics as he hurriedly checked his chronometer. 

Laughing, Hound shook his helm. “No. I just wanted to try something special.” 

‘Something special’ was Hound-speak for ‘I heard of this sexy thing I wanted to try.’ Bluestreak tried not to let that code word set off alarm bells for him; sometimes Hound’s ideas were good ones.

Bluestreak tipped his helm to the side and smiled indulgently. “I won’t have to contort myself in any interesting ways, will I?”

“No.” Hound carried the platter over to the berth and climbed onto it. He knelt in the middle of the berth and gestured. “Just come sit here... and let me feed you some treats.”

That sounded harmless enough. Bluestreak did as he was instructed, and watched as Hound picked up one of the gel squares. Bluestreak took another look at the treats, and his door wings gave a little waggle as he identified the flavourings. “Are these copper? And bismuth?” When Hound nodded, Bluestreak leaned forward and brushed a quick kiss against Hound’s lips. “Thank you! They’re my favourites!”

“I know,” said Hound, his tone just slightly smug. He caught Bluestreak’s chin with his free hand and held the Praxian’s helm still. “Now... Close your optics and open your mouth, and let me do all of the work.”

“All right,” said Bluestreak. He closed his optics and put his hands on his knees. Then, opening his mouth wide, he waited.

“Not so wide,” Hound said, and Bluestreak closed his mouth halfway. 

The first thing he felt was the soft draft of air against his cheeks from Hound’s helm vents. Then something cool and squishy touched his lips, and he opened his mouth a bit wider to accommodate the treat. And then he felt Hound’s lips against his, familiar and firm as they always were, and flavoured like the copper treat that was now smashed between them.

Bluestreak squeaked as the treat was shoved into his mouth, followed by Hound’s glossa. Getting the idea, Bluestreak deepened the kiss as the treat melted in his mouth. He hummed in appreciation, noting the slick of copper-infused energon that coated their lips as they kissed.

When the treat had melted completely and he’d swallowed it, Bluestreak broke the kiss and pulled back. Hound’s expression was a portrait of anticipation as he smiled shyly. “So,” Hound asked. “Would you like another one?”

“Absolutely,” Bluestreak said with a wiggle of his door wings. He tipped Hound’s chin up with a finger and wiped a bit of treat from the corner of Hound’s mouth. “That was fun!”

Hound’s shy smile turned into a grin and his optics brightened. “Good!” he said, and held up the platter. “Pick out another one for me to give you.”

Bluestreak picked up one of the bismuth squares. “Have you ever had one of these?” he asked, holding it up for Hound to take.

“Not the ones that Sideswipe makes, no,” Hound said. “Maybe we can share this one?” He placed the treat between his dentae. Hound’s optics narrowed and his brow ridge furrowed as the corners of his mouth twisted downward. He looked concerned, but Bluestreak recognized the expression as Hound’s attempt at ‘sultry.’

Bluestreak nodded, and leaned in, bringing his face close to Hound’s and closing his lips around the treat.

Later, Bluestreak realized that he should have known what was probably going to happen, since he’d had Sideswipe’s bismuth treats before. When his lips met Hound’s, the green mech bit through the treat, and suddenly liquid was running down both of their chins. Bluestreak thought at first that he was drooling before he remembered that these treats had liquid centers.

Hound made a disconcerted sound and tried to pull back, but Bluestreak looped his hand around the back of Hound’s helm. He brought his other hand up under their chins, catching the gooey liquid as it dripped down. Hound relaxed again and leaned into the kiss.

Where the copper was slick, the bismuth was sticky. Where the copper had been cool, then bismuth was warm. And unlike the sweet copper treats, the bismuth ones were slightly sour. The taste of the second treat mingled with the remains of the first one in Bluestreak’s mouth, providing a perfect counterpoint. Enjoying the taste along with the feel of Hound’s lips against his, Bluestreak’s engine rumbled quietly in approval.

When the second treat had been consumed, Hound leaned back. Bluestreak noticed his lower face was covered in the sticky remains of the treat. “Sorry,” Hound said. “I didn’t know it was liquid inside. I wouldn’t have bit into it like that if –“

“It’s all right,” said Bluestreak. “I knew, and I should have said something.” He looked down at his hand, where the bismuth filling he’d caught was still cupped. “Did you get any of the liquid? It’s nice and tart, and I know that’s a flavour you really like. I’m surprised you’ve never tried these before, to be honest.”

Hound shrugged. “I think every time Sideswipe made these I’ve been away.” He took Bluestreak’s hand and said, “Can I taste a little?”

“Of course,” Bluestreak said, and lifted his hand to Hound’s mouth.

Hound’s glossa flicked out, lapping up the spilled liquid from Bluestreak’s palm. As soon as his glossa touched Bluestreak’s fingers, the Praxian’s ventilations stalled and a shiver ran through his frame.

Bluestreak had had previous lovers use their glossa on him; who hadn’t? But the focus that Hound had on his face, combined with the warm glide of his glossa as it dipped into the joints of his fingers, sent a warm wave of charge through Bluestreak’s lines. There was something overtly sensual about the combined visual and sensation that pushed a lot of Bluestreak’s buttons in a way he couldn’t quite understand.

No, Hound wasn’t sexy in the classic sense. But in that moment, Hound licking the energon from his fingers was the most erotic thing Bluestreak had ever seen.

Hound must have heard the shift in the sound of Bluestreak’s engine, because he looked up. He took one look at Bluestreak’s face and a smirk lit up his own. Then he set about making sure he’d removed every bit of liquid from Bluestreak’s hands and fingers. His mouth engulfed each of Bluestreak’s fingers in turn, his glossa twining around each finger as he slowly sucked all the way to the tip. Then his glossa dipped into the space between his fingers, slipping into the joint, before starting on the next finger with a noisy slurp.

Each time Hound’s mouth slipped from one of his fingers, Bluestreak’s fans stuttered. Then his engine would whine as Hound started on the next. Bluestreak stared at Hound, enthralled by the sight of his lover lavishing this attention on his hand. It was simply intoxicating.

Finally, Hound finished cleaning Bluestreak’s hand, and moved up to his face. He licked the goo from Bluestreak’s chin guard and his jaw, his glossa working in quick little swipes to clean off all of the mess. Bluestreak returned the favour, peppering Hound’s jawline with little kisses as he went.

When all of the energon had been cleaned from both of their faces, Hound sat back. Both of their cooling fans had clicked on, and Hound’s optics were bright with delight. “So you liked that?” he asked with an elated smile.

“Very much so, pup,” Bluestreak said. He shifted closer to Hound and gave his engine a little rev. “One more treat, maybe?”

Hound nodded and grabbed another bismuth square. He put it in his mouth between his dentae like the last one, and he grabbed both of Bluestreak’s hands in his. “Ooonk caahh his honn.”

“What?” Bluestreak asked with a laugh, but then Hound leaned in and pressed the treat against his lips.

Like before, Hound bit through the treat, but Bluestreak’s hands were twined in Hound’s. The liquid center of the square ran down their chins, pooled onto Bluestreak’s chest armor and bumper, then dripped down onto his lap.

Bluestreak closed his optics and enjoyed the kiss, although a part of his processor was tracing the path of the liquid down his front. When the warm liquid landed on his thigh, he broke the kiss and looked down. “I think we’re making a bit of a mess,” he said, waving his door wings to indicate he wasn’t terribly worried about the issue.

“It’ll be fine,” Hound said with a purr (Bluestreak didn’t know that Hound could make his vocalizer drop into that lower register), and dropped his face to Bluestreak’s bumper.

Bluestreak’s engine squealed when Hound’s glossa dipped into the crevice between his bumper and his grill, chasing after a bit of gel, and his whole frame shuddered as Hound laved his open mouth down the middle of Bluestreak’s hood. 

“Ohh, Primus, pup,” Bluestreak gasped, his helm rocked back. When Hound stopped and Bluestreak lifted his helm, the grin on Hound’s face showed how pleased he was with himself.

“Just a bit more,” Hound rumbled, and dipped his helm down further.

Bluestreak’s back arched, his door wings brushing the surface of the berth, as Hound licked the liquid from his thighs and his pelvic plate. Bluestreak’s hands trembled, but they were locked at his side, his fingers still tangled with Hound’s. When Hound’s glossa slid into the gap between Bluestreak’s thigh and pelvis, the Praxian couldn’t stop his hips from bucking upward. “Hound!” he shouted at the ceiling.

The licking stopped. “What is it?” Hound asked, his tone filled with concern.

Bluestreak lifted his helm, aware that his cooling fans were running at max, and a distractingly high level of charge was buzzing through his circuits. His optics found Hound’s, and he saw the worry and apprehension in them. So Bluestreak did the only thing he could think of. 

Bluestreak shoved Hound backwards onto the berth, laughing at the four-by-four’s squeal. Then he set about showing Hound that he absolutely was the sexiest thing on four wheels, as far as Bluestreak was concerned.

**Author's Note:**

> A prompt for Bluestreak/Hound and it didn't even come from me? How could I **possibly** resist that?? :D


End file.
